


Angel

by scarletmanuka



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Child Abuse, Guardian Angels, Happy Ending, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, M/M, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Starker Bingo 2019, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-07 22:21:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20474375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarletmanuka/pseuds/scarletmanuka
Summary: Tony first meets Peter when he is five, after Howard beats him for the first time. Peter continues to appear after every major trauma in his life but is he some sort of guardian angel or is it something else entirely?





	Angel

**Author's Note:**

> For my blank square for the 2019 Starker Bingo challenge.
> 
> Translated to [Russian here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21792709)

Tony first met his guardian angel when he was five. His dad seemed much angrier than usual that night, ranting and raving at Mom all during dinner but it was afterwards, when Tony had been put to bed, that it got worse. He snuck downstairs, trembling with fear, but he had seen how scared Mom had been when she’d tucked him in, and he needed to protect her. He crept down the hallway and peeked around the door to the living room, unable to stop the little cry that tore from his throat at the sight before him. 

Tony froze, knowing that the golden rule was that he was to be seen, not heard, and if his father heard him, he’d be in big trouble. The quiet cry was drowned out by the sound of his dad’s palm connecting with his mom’s face and suddenly he didn't care if his dad heard him or not, his mom needed him.

He darted forward and threw himself on top of his mother, who was laying sprawled on the floor, bruised and bloody, and he stared up at his father with as much defiance as he could muster. “Stop hurting Mom!” he yelled.

His dad paused for a moment, shocked at the intrusion but that was quickly replaced by anger. He was yanked up by two large hands on his pyjama top until he was level with the sneer on his father’s face. “Don’t you fucking tell me what to do, you little brat.” Spittle sprayed across Tony’s face and he scrunched up his nose. “You were put to bed, and you know that you’re not to leave your room before we come to get you in the morning.” He was thrown down onto the sofa, but the back of his head connected painfully with one of the wooden armrests. He cried out again, this time in pain, but his dad ignored him, just began to unbuckle his belt, pulling it from the loops. “I’ve been too soft on you, boy, but it’s time that you learned some respect.”

The pain from the belt hitting his bare bottom and upper thighs was immense but what hurt more was the way that his mother did nothing to stop it, just looked away, almost relieved that it wasn't her being subjected to even more violence. After he was thrashed, his father grabbed hold of Tony’s upper arm and half dragged, half carried him up the stairs and then tossed him into his bedroom, ignoring the tears and the howls of pain. “Maybe now you’ll learn to keep your opinions to yourself,” his father sneered before he shut the door and turned the key in the lock.

Tony lay in a crumpled heap on the floor, sobbing, trying to ignore the way that he could feel his pyjama bottoms soaking through from where the belt had split open the tender skin of his upper legs. He felt small and useless and so very, very alone, so when gentle arms wrapped around him and picked him up from the floor, he didn't startle, didn't scream, just turned against the comforting warmth and cried even harder.

“Shhh, it’s okay, I’ve got you, Tony, I’ve got you,” a soft voice cooed. “Come on, let’s get you patched up, shall we?”

Tony nodded and through his tear heavy lashes he caught a glimpse of pale skin and chestnut curls, seemingly haloed in light. “Are you my guardian angel?” he asked in a hiccuping little voice. Mom sometimes told him stories and until now, he’d never believed them, his scientific mind dismissing such frivolous ideas.

A soft hand brushed his fringe from his face and then gently wiped the tears from his cheeks. “Something like that,” the man murmured and then set Tony down on his feet. There was a first aid kit spread out on the bed already and Tony decided that if this man knew that it would be needed, then he must have some sort of powers. He watched the stranger as he sorted through the contents, pulling out dressings and antiseptic cream. He was old, but not quite as old as his parents, maybe as old as Miss Jameson that sometimes looked after him after school. She was going to university, but his father said that it was a sham of a degree, something to do with the social sciences. She has seemed nice enough though and even brought him sweets sometimes. 

“Tony, did you want to lie down on the bed for me?” the angel asked, holding up the supplies. 

“Um…” Tony would have to pull his pants down and angel or not, he didn't know this man. Mom had always lectured him on letting strange men see his private parts. He said as much.

The angel closed his eyes for a moment and his cheeks flushed red. “You’re right, I forget that you don’t know me.” He opened his eyes again, warm and dark like the good chocolate that Mom ate, and then he knelt down so that he was only a little bit taller than Tony. “My name is Peter.” He held out his hand and they shook. “I’ve come to look after you, Tony. I’m not going to hurt you, I promise, but if this makes you uncomfortable, then I’ll find you a mirror and I'll tell you what you need to do to patch yourself up, okay?”

Tony thought about this as he watched the angel closely. He still wasn’t sure.

“May I ask you a question?” Peter asked.

Tony nodded.

“Is it just your legs that are bleeding?”

He reached out and gingerly felt at the material of his pyjama bottoms, wincing as he pressed too hard against an area where his skin has split. It did seem that although his bottom stung with the welts there, it wasn’t bleeding. “Just my legs,” he confirmed. 

“Well then, there’s absolutely no reason that you’ll need to take off your underwear then, is there?” Peter said with a small smile. “I can dress the wounds on your legs and you don’t have to show a strange man your private parts. Does that sound okay?”

Tony thought about this some more. He knew lots of adults - knew more grown ups than he did children really - and there weren’t many that he would agree to help him in this situation, maybe only Jarvis and Miss Jameson. He looked at Peter again, who was still kneeling on his bedroom floor, close by but keeping an arm’s length between them, not touching, just waiting patiently. He didn't look angry and Tony got the feeling that if he said no, Peter wouldn’t ever get angry, he’d just accept that and then advise Tony how to look after his injuries himself. Finally he nodded. “Okay, you can do it,” he said, “but remember - guardian angels aren’t creepy. Got it?”

Peter laughed at this but schooled his face and nodded solemnly. “Got it.”

Tony shucked his pyjama bottoms and had a moment of panic, seeing just how much blood was on them. He stood, wide eyed and trembling as he held the blood soaked garment in his hands, and as if seeing the evidence of his injuries suddenly made them all the more real, they began to hurt, a lot more. His eyes welled over again and then Peter was there, pulling him against his chest and rubbing his back soothingly. “I know it hurts, Tony, and I’m so sorry that he did this to you. I’ll make it hurt less, I promise, okay.”

Peter arranged Tony on the bed and he took the blanket from the end of the bed and settled it over his back, which made him feel a lot less exposed. Then he disappeared into the bathroom for a moment and came back with a bowl of warm water. He wet some cotton pads and then began to wipe away the blood that had dribbled down the backs of Tony’s knees and down his calves. When he began to wash the wounds themselves, Tony cried out and flinched away, but Peter just rubbed his back through the blanket, speaking softly to him until he had settled once more. The antiseptic cream stung and as much as he tried to be brave, Tony started sobbing again, but then it was done, and Peter was pressing on some sticky dressings and then it was all over. 

Peter cleared away everything he’d used, making sure to leave no evidence behind, and then he went to the dresser and pulled out some fresh pyjamas. “Why don’t you go and get changed into these?” he suggested, tilting his head towards the bathroom.

Once Tony was changed, he came out of the bathroom and found that Peter had pulled the blankets back from the bed, ready for Tony to get in. “Are you leaving now?” he asked.

“I have to go soon but I can stay a little longer if you want,” Peter offered.

Tony nodded but it was only after Peter agreed to stay that he finally got into bed. He lay there quietly for a few moments, letting Peter stroke a hand through his hair. It felt nice and Tony’s eyes began to feel heavy. “Can I ask _ you _ a question?” he said, his voice almost slurred with oncoming sleep.

“You can ask me anything, Tony,” Peter assured him.

“If you’re my guardian angel, why didn’t you come _ before _ Dad did this to me? Why did you have to come after?”

“Oh, Tony,” Peter gasped and he wormed an arm under Tony’s shoulders so he could hug him tightly for a moment. “I’m sorry, that’s not how it works. I can’t change anything, I can only be here for you afterwards, to show you that you’re not alone, never alone.”

“Oh.” He didn't really know what to say to that. Peter continued to hold him though and Tony shuffled across until he was snuggled as close to his angel as he could get. Peter smelled nice, a scent that felt like it should have been familiar but he was sure he didn’t know. It was comforting and soon Tony fell asleep, safe in the knowledge that someone was looking over him. Even when he woke the following morning, alone, he didn't quite _ feel _alone, and when the door clicked and swung open, and his Dad was snarling at him already, it wasn’t quite as scary as it was usually.

Tony had a guardian angel who would look over him, always.

oOoOo

Peter came again six months later when his dad backhanded him across the face, sending him flying against the wall. He held an ice pack against Tony’s jaw and he read to him from one of his scientific journals until he fell asleep.

When Tony was six, he stopped calling his father ‘dad’ and began to think of him as Howard. That was just after he slapped Tony hard enough to knock out three of his baby teeth. His guardian angel snuck into his room, carrying a bag with ice cream, and jello, and custard and they watched an old black and white movie about zombies and ate a goopy mix of all three desserts until Tony was so full that he thought that he’d be sick.

When he was eight and Howard knocked him down the stairs and broke his arm, Tony looked for Peter the entire way to the hospital, but Jarvis put his silent tears down to those of pain, unable to know that Tony was upset that his secret angel hadn’t come. They arrived back at the house hours later, in the middle of the night, Tony’s arm in a cast and his head slightly fuzzy from painkillers. He stumbled into his room and stood staring dumbly at the man sitting on his bed. “I didn’t think you were coming,” he finally managed to say.

“I’m sorry,” Peter told him, “but I couldn’t risk Jarvis seeing me so I had to wait until you were back here.”

Tony was so relieved to see him that he just threw himself into Peter’s arms and cried, hugging him tight around the waist with his unbroken arm.

When Tony had cried himself hoarse and was beginning to wilt with fatigue, Peter picked him up and settled him into bed but Tony clutched at his arm and begged him not to go. “Please, don’t leave me.”

Peter nodded and climbed up onto the bed to lie on top of the covers. Tony shuffled closer and Peter did the thing where he stroked a hand through the thick tufts of Tony’s hair and he slowly relaxed. Finally, he got the courage to ask, “Why does Howard hate me so much?”

There was a long pause before Peter finally spoke, his voice barely a whisper in the dark. “I don’t think he hates you, Tony. He loves you, in his own way.”

“It doesn't feel like he loves me.” 

“No, I don’t suppose it does,” Peter agreed. “Besides, it doesn't matter if he loves you or not, there’s no excuse for hurting you or your mother.”

Tony didn't say anything else, just burrowed close into the warmth of his angel and finally fell asleep, aware deep inside, on some instinctive level that Peter loved him and would always be there for him.

oOoOo

The first time that Tony ever saw Peter outside of the house was when he was twelve. He was a freshman already, having skipped numerous grades over the years and they were out for a field trip to a laboratory an hour out of town. He’d spent the day alone, his classmates not wanting to be seen talking to the kid in their class, but he was used to that, to being by himself. He’d enjoyed the trip, though the science had been dumbed down for the class, but he’d managed to speak to the lead scientist for a few minutes over the break and discuss one of his theories briefly. They’d then been lined up and marched back to the bus so they could get back to school in time for the end of day. 

Tony was sitting almost at the front of the bus, by himself, and he wasn’t distracted by the idle chatter of his classmates so he saw the truck coming, too fast to stop, along an intersecting road. He braced himself against the seat in front just before it crashed into them, sending them rolling over and over. School bags, books, and students went flying through the air as they flipped once again, and a hardback book collided with Tony’s face. The bus finally came to a halt, bouncing back and forth on the wheels before finally coming to a complete stop. Then the screams began and all pandemonium broke loose. Tony got himself up, ignoring the caved in side of the bus almost directly opposite him and he staggered forwards to where the driver was. 

Or had been.

He was crumpled in a heap in the stairwell, his neck at a funny angle, his eyes lifeless. One of his classmates pushed up behind Tony, and she screamed when she saw the driver and tried to push past him to get out. “We can’t get out that way,” Tony told her, ushering her back into the bus “The door won’t open with him there.”

“What do we do?” she cried, hysterical.

“The back window,” Tony told her, calm and patient. “It pushes out.”

In the end, it was himself and one of the older boys who were the only ones to keep their heads long enough to get the window pushed open. Tony was too little to help his classmates climb out so once he’d jumped down, he staggered off to the side, wiping his face, surprised when it came away wet with blood. 

A strong hand came down on his shoulder and Tony was beginning to recognise the grip. “Peter,” he said, and his voice only wavered a little.

“It’s alright, Tony, come and sit down.”

The crash had happened on the outskirts of town so it wasn’t a busy area but enough people drove the road that several cars had already stopped to help. One couple was helping the truck driver, others were helping the students climb out of the bus, then giving first aid to the injured. Peter pulled out a folded up cloth and pressed it firmly against the gash in Tony’s temple. “Can’t have your brains leaking out of your head,” the angel teased. Tony offered him a very small smile and then just shifted a little so he could lean up against Peter. 

Soon there were sirens and numerous police cars and ambulances arrived on the scene. Peter helped Tony to his feet and then pulled him into a quick hug. Somebody started yelling at the paramedics, and Tony’s attention was drawn for just a moment, and when he looked back, Peter was gone.

oOoOo

Tony was fifteen when he started at MIT and if he’d thought being younger than everyone was hard in high school, then it was doubly so at university. He was a genius and smarter than most of the adults there, but he was also still a teenager, his face a mess of acne, his voice cracking with every second sentence he spoke. He was left alone just as much as he’d always been, no one daring to befriend him. He didn’t care, just studied hard, knowing that the sooner he got his degrees, the sooner he could be out from under Howard’s thumb. His father had begun to talk about his legacy and having Tony take over the business, but that was the last thing he wanted. The only person he confided in about this was his Uncle Obie, Howard’s business partner, and as supportive as he seemed to be, they both knew that what Howard wanted, he generally got. For now though, Tony could pretend, pretend like this meant something, that his education could give him a foot up, a way out. 

It was a nice fantasy, but one that was built on false hope and tattered dreams.

He was heading back to his dorm from the library late one night when he heard something nearby and he paused, peering into the dark to see who was there. Two drunk guys came stumbling up the pathway, kicking a crushed beer can between them, and they stopped when they saw Tony. “Hey, it’s that genius kid,” one of them said. “What do you call him?” he asked his friend.

The second man looked at Tony with such hunger that his blood ran cold and he began to shiver violently. “Jailbait,” the man said before he grinned viciously at Tony.

Deciding that the best course of action was to ignore the men, Tony turned and began to walk back the way he’d come, but he was still shorter than most, not having had his last growth spurt, and drunk or not, the men were faster than him. A hand clamped down on his arm and he was spun around and then before he could even cry out, he was being dragged away, off the path and out into the garden. 

“Stop it!” he finally managed, as he kicked and fought, trying to break free. 

“Ooh, I like them feisty,” the second man said, then laughed. “Keep struggling, jailbait.”

They overpowered Tony easily and had his jeans down before it really began to sink in what they were going to do to him. Tony struggled even harder but it just seemed to spur them on and when one clamped his hand over his mouth, he couldn't even scream. He bit down as hard as he could manage and the man covering his mouth swore and jerked his hand away. “You fucking little shit,” he spat, and punched Tony hard in the stomach.

The breath whooshed from his lungs and he sank to the ground, giving the men an even bigger advantage over him. He felt helpless, and the fight went out of him, realising that the more he fought, the more they would enjoy what they did to him. Tears rolled down his cheeks and his head lolled to one side, eyes wide and staring out at the dark night. He caught sight of movement and hope flared in his chest as he saw Peter’s pale face in the faint moonlight.

Words spoken years ago floated back to him and the hope died. 

_ “I can’t change anything, I can only be here for you afterwards, to show you that you’re not alone, never alone.” _

So that was it then. Peter was here so Tony wouldn’t be alone as these two men raped him. Lucky me, he thought bitterly.

But then there was a shout and a tall, well built man was running up to them and shoving the men away and as they ran off, he gave chase, cursing them. Peter was there in an instant and he wordlessly helped Tony to his feet and pulled up his jeans, making him somewhat presentable again. 

“Were you just going to enjoy the show?” Tony spat, unable to keep the anger from his voice.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Peter said, then he sighed and sat down on the grass, pulling Tony down with him. “They were never going to get any further, Rhodey was always going to come and save you.”

“Rhodey?”

Peter’s head tilted in the direction the men had run. “The man who came to your rescue.”

“Oh, then why are you here?”

Peter sighed again, sad and resigned. “I thought that you might like the company while you wait for him to return. I thought you wouldn't want to be alone.”

“I’d rather be alone than with you,” Tony snapped, and he dragged himself back onto his feet. “You’re the world’s worst guardian angel, you know that, right? What would have happened if that guy hadn’t come? Huh?”

“Tony, that wouldn't have happened.”

“But what if it had? You say that you can’t change anything, that you can’t help me. Would you have stood there and watched them _ rape _ me.” He was met with silence. _ “Answer me!” _he cried.

There were tears in Peter’s eyes as he looked up, but they didn't fall. “Of course I wouldn't have. No matter how much trouble I’d get in, I wouldn’t have just stood by and done nothing.”

Tony snorted. “Yeah, right.”

“It’s true.”

“Whatever, angel.” He was mad, so very mad, not really at Peter, just at the world at large but he couldn’t take it out on the world and that made him madder so he took it out on Peter instead. “Why don’t you just fuck off back to wherever you come from and just leave me alone. I don’t want you here, and I don’t _ need _ you here so just go away.”

Peter swallowed hard and a tear welled over and ran down one of his pale cheeks. “As you wish, Tony.” And he vanished.

Before he could even regret the conversation, the man who had saved him was back, breathing hard, his lip split open. “There you are. Shit, man, are you okay? I caught those guys and some campus cops have taken them away but they want to talk to you. Are you up for that?”

Tony nodded, unable to find the words to speak.

It didn't seem to matter to the guy, he just gave him a friendly smile. “Come on then, I’ll walk you over there.” He held out a hand. “I’m James Rhodes by the way.”

Tony shook it. “Huh, Rhodey.”

Rhodes looked at him weirdly for a second and then shrugged. “Yeah, that’s cool, I’ll answer to that.”

Tony found a small smile to give him and he had the feeling that he had finally found a friend. “Tony, Tony Stark.”

“It’s good to meet you, Tony, just wish it could have been under better circumstances. Come on, let’s get you down to the station.”

oOoOo

The next few years flew by and Tony didn't think of his guardian angel much, too busy with uni and getting up to all sorts of shenanigans with his new best friend. It was the Christmas of his eighteenth year when he saw Peter again, but he wasn't exactly sure why the angel had turned up. As far as he knew there was nothing wrong with him, but he quickly patted himself down in case he had an injury he wasn’t aware of. “What is it? Is it cancer? Something else? Am I dying?”

“No, Tony, you’re not dying,” Peter said.

“Then why are you here?”

As if in answer to that question, the phone began to ring. He stared at it, the shrill noise filling the room ominously but didn't move to answer it.

“You’d better get that,” Peter said softly.

Tony’s feet felt like lead but they eventually got him across the room to the small table where the phone sat. He picked up the receiver, managed to get out a greeting, then he listened as his world fell apart.

His parents were dead, a car accident, and of course, Howard had been drinking. The police officer on the end of the line told him that Obie could come and identify the bodies, that they didn't expect Tony to and was that okay. Tony managed to confirm that that would be fine, and then he hung up and turned to look at Peter.

“I’m so sorry,” Peter said in a tone that said that he knew that Tony’s parents had been pretty terrible but they were still his parents and he knew that it would still hurt.

Tony couldn't speak, he just crossed the few feet between them and threw himself into Peter’s arms, grateful that the horrible things he’d said the last time he’d seen Peter hadn’t been enough to keep him away. 

Peter stayed with him all of that night and the following night as well. He was there when Obie came around and assured Tony that he’d take care of the business until he’d finished uni, silently out of view in the kitchen but Tony knew he was there. He then remained by Tony’s side as arrangements were made for the funeral, making himself scarce when well wishers dropped by, but appearing again as soon as Tony was alone. He held Tony during the long nights as he cried himself to sleep, and made sure that he ate and had the odd shower. He was waiting for Tony in his bedroom when he fled the wake early, unable to stand yet another person telling him what a shame it was to have lost such wonderful people like his parents. Tony missed his mom terribly but he found that he had little grief to spare for Howard and Peter was the only one who understood that. 

Peter seemed to be the only one who really got Tony at all and so it seemed the natural thing to do was to push the angel onto his bed and to kiss him senseless. 

A strong hand held Tony back, before his lips even made contact and those warm chocolate eyes were full of sorrow. “I’m sorry, Tony, but this can’t happen.”

“But I lo-” 

“Tony, please,” Peter almost begged. “Not now, not yet.” And then he was gone and Tony was falling down onto the bed, the warm body that had lain beneath him a moment ago gone.

For a moment he thought his heart would break but then he replayed the words that Peter had said. “Not yet?” 

Hope bloomed anew within him.

oOoOo

Tony didn't see Peter for years and years after that and the hope that he’d felt that night slowly faded and he began to break apart. He ended up taking over the family business, giving up his own hopes and dreams to keep alive those of his father. He drank heavily, dabbled in drugs, and took home a plethora of questionable bed mates. Deep down inside he knew that he was pushing the envelope, that if he went too far then at least he would finally get to see Peter again. He missed him terribly, but no one could know of his angel and so he kept that hurt and the rejection deep within and let it eat him from the inside out.

He thought that perhaps Peter appeared one night but he was so wasted that he couldn’t be sure. All the knew was that someone pulled him out from the tangled heap of naked people that were sprawled on his living room floor, cleaned him up, and put him to bed. A warm hand ran through his hair and he turned into the touch, despite unconsciousness calling his name, and he breathed out a sigh, _ “Peter.” _Soft lips pressed against his temple and then the person was gone and when he woke in the morning with the mother of all hangovers, Tony was convinced that he had imagined the entire thing.

Tony lost himself in his work, using his genius to create more and more terrible weapons. He cut back on the illicit drugs but not on the booze or the blondes, and he earned himself a reputation. His angel avoided him and Tony knew that he had slipped so far from grace that he wasn't worthy of Peter anymore. He told himself that he didn’t care, that he didn't need some stupid guardian angel, that he could take care of himself just fine. He had never been good at lying to himself but a bottle of whiskey and a new conquest between the sheets made him forget, if only for a little while.

Then came Jericho and everything changed. Everything after the explosion was fuzzy, but he had hazy memories of watching in horror as his sternum was cracked open and a bespectacled man reached inside before he eventually passed out. When he woke up he learned that the man was called Yinsen, that he had saved Tony’s life, and that the Ten Rings wanted Tony to build them a weapon. Later that night, when Yinsen was asleep and Tony was too scared to close his eyes, he learned that he wasn't alone, that he’d never been alone.

“FRIDAY,” a voice whispered, “get the video feed.”

Tony rolled over and saw Peter approach and his heart flopped in his chest, making him wince. “Peter?” he whispered and then his angel was there, his hands soothing back his hair and Tony couldn't help it, he began to cry. “You’re here, you’ve not left me.”

“Never, Tony, I’ll never leave you,” Peter promised and he held Tony tight and rubbed his back, and pressed kisses to his hair.

Tony was never sure how Peter did it. He only ever showed up when Yinsen was asleep, or had been taken away by their captors. He still called Peter his angel but he was sure that he was something else now, maybe not entirely human, but thinking about it gave him a headache and so he was sure to never dwell on it too much. Whatever he was, Peter was able to evade detection by the Ten Rings and he sat and helped as Tony planned his escape, his revenge. 

They were ready to go but then things went wrong and Yinsen died, but Tony escaped, landing in a broken heap in the middle of the desert. Peter found him and walked beside him, encouraging him along, promising that Rhodey was coming, that he would always come for Tony, just like Peter would always be there for him too. He heard the chopper before he saw it and he turned to Peter before he could disappear on him, knowing that he only had seconds. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Peter said, and then there nothing beside Tony but the sand being whipped up from the blades of the chopper.

oOoOo

Peter made brief appearances more often after that: when Obie betrayed him, when the palladium was poisoning him, when he fell from a wormhole, after catching a glimpse of the future, and when Ultron killed JARVIS and tried to kill the world as well. Then everything went to shit and the Accords happened and the team he thought of as family walked away, thinking that he had betrayed them, when all he’d tried to do was right the wrongs that they had done.

He never expected to meet Peter in the flesh but then his angel walked into the tiny living room of an apartment in Queens and Tony thought that his heart had stopped. 

He made small talk with May Parker and finally got Peter alone, and for the longest time he just stared at him.

“Mr Stark?” Peter asked and it was then that Tony realised that this Peter wasn’t _ his _ Peter. Well he was, but an earlier version, some younger version of his angel-who-wasn’t-an-angel. He had no idea what was going on but he figured that at this point, he couldn’t afford to ask questions.

He convinced the kid to come to Germany with him and Spider-Man was very helpful during the airport fight. Tony had a minor heart attack when he thought the kid was down for good but started breathing again when he pulled off his mask and cried out at Tony. After telling him that he was done, Tony set about tracking down where Rogers and Barnes were going and he put aside the mystery of his angel, concentrating on the task at hand.

Peter appeared later that day, _ his _Peter, when Tony was lying in his dead armour, struggling to breathe and slowly freezing to death. 

“Hey, it’s okay, you’re gonna be okay,” Peter assured him, his hands instantly going to the secret trigger to release the armour like he was intimately familiar with it. 

“He killed my mom,” Tony whispered, looking at Peter in a daze. 

“I know, but it was really Hydra.”

“They left me here, alone.”

Peter’s warm eyes turned flinty. “I know, but I’m here now, you’re not alone, Tony.”

He reached out and placed a tentative hand on Peter’s cheek, needing to convince himself that his angel was real. “I met you, earlier,” he said stupidly.

“I know. I’m sorry, it must be confusing but I can’t explain.”

“That’s okay, it’s okay,” Tony said, slumping forward into Peter’s arms because it _ was_, it would always be okay, so long as Peter was there.

Half an hour later, T’Challa’s voice echoed down the corridor and Tony knew that his time with Peter was up. “Until next time,” he whispered.

“Until next time,” Peter agreed, then he darted forward and kissed Tony hard and then yet again, he was gone.

oOoOo

It wasn’t as confusing as it could have been - Tony kept them both separate in his mind. There was Peter Parker, Spider-Man and his mentee, just a kid from Queens, and then there was Peter, his guardian angel whom he loved with everything that he had, who he only saw after the lowest points of his life. It became a little harder as Pete grew, becoming more and more a man everyday, as he started to really resemble Tony’s Peter. Then Thanos appeared and Pete disintegrated into nothingness in Tony’s arms and although Peter turned up shortly afterwards when Carol Danvers appeared outside the spaceship and brought Nebula and himself back to Earth, and the other Avengers went off to try and reverse the snap, it was hard.

"I watched you die,” Tony sobbed, as Peter held him tight, alone in the hospital room in the compound.

“I know, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“What’s going on, Peter? Is that it? Is that how you became an angel?”

Peter shook his head but he didn't reply, _ couldn't _reply and as much as it pained Tony to be kept in the dark, he didn't push for answers, lest he push Peter away. He could deal with being in the dark, so long as he had Peter. It didn't seem like he’d ever have Peter for long, but he would take what he could get.

The next five years passed, and he secluded himself away in a small cabin upstate, trying to ignore the changed world around him. Peter appeared every now and then, never staying for long, but it was clear that he wanted to and that was enough for Tony, to know that Peter wanted to be with them. They didn’t kiss again, but he often fell asleep wrapped up in Peter’s arms and it felt so good to be loved, to be cared for, that he didn't care if the real world passed him by completely.

Then one day the real world came knocking and with it the hope that they could get everyone back, reverse the snap. Originally he said no, content with his life as it was, with just himself and his alpaca Gerald, and occasionally Peter. His angel showed up that night and encouraged him to help Rogers and the others and so Tony got to work and soon he had the answer to their space heist problem. After a few hiccups, and the loss of Natasha, they finally faced down Thanos once again. 

The moment that Pete found him and he got to finally hug him was like something broken fitting back into place and he knew that he would do anything to protect the kid in his arms. So when Thanos went to snap his fingers once again, Tony lunged at him and stole the stones right off his gauntlet with his nano tech, ready to snap them himself, knowing that that much concentrated power would kill him.

“I am inevitable,” Thanos cried, then looked shocked when nothing happened.

“And I,” Tony said, “am Iron Man.” Before he could snap, he felt a hand slip into his left hand and his eyes widened as he saw Peter kneeling next to him. His angel smiled and he snapped his fingers, and the power rushed through him, overwhelming, and he felt like he was being torn apart, his left hand burning, burning as the power surged from him into his angel.

Then it was over, and somehow he was still alive, and he looked over and Peter was still there, but weak and sick looking. “Remember,” he whispered, “I love you, Tony.” Then he disappeared but it wasn’t like the dusted, it was like he always did and so Tony didn't grieve, knowing that he would see Peter again.

He staggered over to sit down, exhausted and sore and then Rhodey was there, like he was always there, and Pete was too and he was being hugged and told it was okay, and he knew it would be, even though he couldn't really feel his right arm anymore. 

oOoOo

More years passed, and Tony didn't see Peter often, but he knew that his angel was out there and that he was loved, so he concentrated on helping the world heal after the trauma of everything that had happened. Helen Cho regrew his damaged nerves and he regained full use of his right arm, but the small burn scar on his left palm remained always. Pete went off to uni, MIT, and Tony couldn't be prouder, and he saw him as little as he saw his angel but they kept in touch with phone calls and texts and before his eyes, Pete grew into a man. At his graduation, Tony couldn't stop staring, seeing his angel standing before him and knowing that it was soon going to be time. The ‘yet’ was almost here and his life would finally click back into place.

He saw his angel one last time when he appeared in the middle of the night. He said nothing, just climbed into bed with Tony, straddled his lap and kissed the breath out of him. Tony’s hands fell to his hips, holding him close, and when they broke apart for air, he asked, “Why? Why now?”

“In case it goes wrong and this is the only time I can have you,” Peter whispered. 

Tony had long gotten used to accepting everything that Peter said and so he didn't question any further, he just gave his angel everything he asked for, making love to him slowly and sweetly, whispering over and over just how much he loved him. 

The next morning, they shared one last kiss and then Peter was gone but he promised to see Tony very soon and so when the call came through for the Avengers to assemble, Tony suited up and left, his body thrumming with anticipation. 

It was some sort of magic user that was angry that Strange was policing how she used her powers. She had a few minions with her, and the other Avengers kept them busy while the Sorcerer Supreme dealt with the witch. Spider-Man zipped past on a web, calling out a greeting to Tony, and his heart stuttered once more, as everything fell into place. _ This _was his Peter, here and now, and somehow today it would all be reconciled. 

It was then that Tony saw the witch blasting some sort of beam at Strange and he flew directly at his friend to knock him out of the way, but somehow he ended up hit anyway. He fell to the ground, memories flooding his mind, overwhelming him, and suddenly he felt alone, so very alone.

“What have you done?” he heard someone ask distantly and someone laughed then, long and evil.

“Tony? Tony? God, please, you have to be okay, come on Tony, please wake up, it’s me, it’s Peter.”

“What have you done?” the first voice demanded again and he heard a woman cry out in pain.

“He is trapped, trapped in his mind, forever alone,” the woman then shouted, cackling over and over. “Alone to face his demons and he own madness.”

“What do we do?” he heard Peter ask but then he was alone in his room, his legs bleeding and his bottom hurting from the thrashing that his father had given him; then he was alone at the hospital, his broken arm hanging uselessly at his side, as useless as he was; then he was on the side of the road, bleeding and injured, the damaged bus nearby, but no one stopped to help him, he wasn’t worthy of their help, no one cared. He couldn't take the pain that seemed to be ripping his mind apart and he cried out, for the one person who had always been there for him. 

_ “Angel!” _

“What did he say?” the first voice said, Strange, it was Strange, he knew that.

“He asked for his angel,” Peter said, and then he heard him gasp. “She said he’ll be alone with his demons, but what if he isn't alone? What if he has an angel with him?”

A beat passed and Tony was being dragged into the bushes on his university campus, two men laughing cruelly above him; then he was in a cave in Afghanistan, his chest gaping open as he was melded with a battery.

“Who? Who would we send?” 

“Me.” The reply was instant, and brokered no argument.

“Are you sure? There might be no coming back, you might get trapped as well.”

“I don’t care.” As Tony relived the loneliness of his parents death, the pain of his split lip and missing teeth from Howard’s fist, an earnest voice broke into his memories. “Please, Stephen, please help me help him. I’ll do anything for Tony, anything.”

“Okay, okay, just...give me a second to think of how to do this.”

“He’ll die, mad and alone,” the witch laughed, somewhere in the distance and then there was the sound of her being dragged away.

"I think I know how, but I can't do it with my magic alone, we'll need to integrate it with his tech," Stephen said, slowly, once the witch was gone. "We'll need Banner, maybe Shuri and Rocket too, and definitely FRIDAY."

“Hold on, Tony, I’m coming,” Peter’s voice said, and despite the deep loneliness dragging at his soul, he believed him.

oOoOo

Tony didn't know how much time had passed, lost in his memories. He heard the occasional voice but could never focus on it for long, too busy spiralling down, down, into a pit of loneliness that he couldn't claw his way out of, no matter how hard he tried.

“Right, FRIDAY are we good to go?” Strange asked suddenly from close by.

"Yes we are," replied the AI.

"What about you?" Strange asked someone else.

“I've always been ready,” Peter replied. "I'm coming for you, Tony, hold on, I'm coming."

Then Peter was there, like he’d always been, to hold him as he cried, to patch up his injuries, to assure Tony that he wasn't alone, that he was never alone. He was there as he grieved for his parents, and as he grieved the loss of his friendship with the Avengers. He was there as half the world faded to dust, including Peter himself, and he was there, holding Tony’s hand as his snapped his gauntlet, taking half the power, lending Tony his strength so he wouldn’t be destroyed by it. Tony’s eyes blinked open and he realised that he was in a hospital bed, but someone was holding his hand. He looked over and Peter was there, his warm chocolate eyes full of love and a silent promise to always be there for him. Tony squeezed his hand, determined to never let go, and whispered, “My angel.”


End file.
